


oh god, kill me now

by TolkienGirl



Series: Vintage Winchesters: Season 1 Tags [18]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Conversations in the Impala (Supernatural), Episode Tag, Episode: s01e18 Something Wicked, Foreshadowing, Gen, Sam questions the Revenge Mission for a moment, Two Brothers and a Car, in light of what he's learned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-28
Updated: 2020-11-28
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:15:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27748864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TolkienGirl/pseuds/TolkienGirl
Summary: SAM: I wish I could have that kind of innocence.DEAN: If it means anything, sometimes I wish you could, too.
Relationships: Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester, Jessica Moore/Sam Winchester, John Winchester & Sam Winchester, John Winchester/Mary Winchester
Series: Vintage Winchesters: Season 1 Tags [18]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1777720
Comments: 2
Kudos: 20





	oh god, kill me now

**Author's Note:**

> Those lines of dialogue hit different after the finale. ;_;

_You think you know your family—you leave because they don’t know_ you _._

Sam does not say this, squinting down the sunlit road. The yellow lines have long since faded. In some places of rural America—along many roads—those lines were never painted at all. Highways are seamless gray ribbons stitched to the fabric of earth.

Sam’s throat is too tight for any words right now. They’re going north, but he’s thinking south. They’re going towards tomorrow, but he’s thinking of two boys in an old motel, death coming for only one of them.

There’s just so much he doesn’t remember.

_You think you know your family._

“Hey, Dean,” he says, at mile seventy. The radio’s on, but not at an interminable pitch. The trees outside their windows are tipped in flame. Autumn’s beginning in earnest. In a few more weeks—

Dean isn’t answering.

 _You think you know_.

Sam doesn’t press him. Just settles back against the bench seat, elbows on his knees. He is turning over their childhood for the hundredth time. ( _You lift the tape out of the tape-deck, right? You wind it back into itself._ )

(Dad leaves them on their own. Sam says, _nothing else matters, I’ve got to find the thing that killed Jess_. Dad says, watch out for your brother, _no matter how old you are_. Sam counts the days back to Palo Alto. Dad counts the years back to Lawrence. Dean says, _I fucked up, I’m sorry, all those kids, all that time, this isn’t about you, Sam…_ )

Sam doesn’t say, _it’s always about me_ , but he means it.

“If you want me to drive,” Sam says, “I wouldn’t mind.”

Dean shoots him an incredulous glance. “On this kind of day? No way in hell, Sam. Me and Baby have a pact. Open roads and sunshine are ours.”

Sam rolls his eyes—he’s expected to. He shifts a little.

 _For what it’s worth_ …

“Hey, Dean,” he says.

“What?”

So Dean’s through thinking, or pretending he is.

“No new coordinates yet.”

“You’d know if there were.” A cautious, sideways flicker. Dean’s gauging him. There are expressions Sam lost track of— _you forget a great deal of a life you’re not living_. This expression though? Sam remembered.

“Maybe we can take it easy for a couple days,” Sam says. These words are no easier to say than the ones he hasn’t said at all. Every fiber of his being, ever tick of his moral compass—they order him on. _Jess, Jess, Jess_. The thing that killed Jess. And Mom…

“You OK?” Dean asks. “That witch puked all the life-force back up. Right?”

“Right,” Sam says. “I’m what’s the phrase—right as rain. I just…we’ve been gunning pretty hard, these last few days. I’m giving you permission to go to a bar.”

That does it. Dean rags him, gratefully, about _permission._

Sam chuckles. Forgets, remembers, _knows._

Finally, he shuts his eyes against the eventuality of becoming his father.

Of becoming worse things, even, than that.


End file.
